


Safety

by Sakilya



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: wedding spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-04 05:22:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakilya/pseuds/Sakilya
Summary: Usually, when Vesper is held, she likes to listen to the rhythm and pulse coming from the chest of the person carrying her. Now, she hears nothing like that.





	Safety

Vesper Elaina de Rolo does not yet know her name. She knows the sound of it, that it means that she should look the way of the voice saying it because it’s usually so full with warmth, and love, and more things and feelings she’ll find words for in a couple of years. She knows it usually means being close to the people that makes her feel safe.

This time, when she hears the sounds that is her name, the tone is different and wrong, and most of all, very, very loud. It instantly upsets her, and where usually there’s hands picking her up as soon as tears starts to gather in her eyes, this time there is nothing of sorts. Just another noise, something heavy hitting the ground just next to her cradle, and a strong smell filling the air.

Vesper is actually already familiar with the scent of blood. Sometimes her father carries her to greet her mother coming back from her hunt, and there will be the smell of blood lingering on her clothes and the prey that she sometimes brings. (These are more things that Vesper does not yet know the specifics of, all she knows it that being carried is nice, and getting cooed at is nice, and that she gets to bury her small hands into something furry and soft when Trinket also says hello).

This time the sensation of the smell is too much, and the cry that was in her throat turns into a wail. She rolls around in her cradle, reaching for that warmth and feeling of safety that would usually already be there. Instead of that comfort a cold hand settles behind her neck and she’s lifted up, cradled against someone that is not known to her.

“You’re such a disgusting creature.” A voice says, sounds and vowels she doesn’t understand being less important than that this being is no one familiar to her, and therefor, no one good. “Did you know that your creators are savages, slaughterers of true love, and here they believe _ you _to be the proof of the opposite.” She’s seeing the room move, for a moment recognizing the maid on the floor, and something in her mind that is rapidly learning truths about the world connects that a body shouldn’t be twisted that way. 

The sensation is gone a moment later, and Vesper continues to struggle and twist her limbs as much as possible, without any coordination to get somewhere but to prove that this situation is not anything that she likes. She has been carried and held by a lot of people, not everyone is great at it, but there’s nothing good about this. She’s cold, the hand under her skull is too tight, and the voice is making her scared. Usually, when Vesper is held, she likes to listen to the rhythm and pulse coming from the chest of the person carrying her. Now, she hears nothing like that. 

“If my beloved was here, we might have taken you in. Your aunt was a bit difficult, but you could have turned out to be a decent daughter of ours with the proper guidance. Now, you will instead have to blame your death on the actions of your parents.” 

In a moment of what feels like clarity, or like a heavy blanket covering her, Vesper feels safe with the one carrying her. There’s nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing wrong. Even the voice that was so amiss before sounds better than the voice of her father, than the voice of her mother. Better than anything.

“We’re going to see your mother and father very soon, so _hush_.” 

The words and their meaning is not something that Vesper understands, but she recognizes that the sound means that she doesn’t need to cry anymore. So Vesper stops crying. 

“SYLAS” Vesper knows the two voices mixing as they ring out, and she cooes, reaching out for them, happy that they’re with her in this happy place, but something is wrong about the tone of their voices. They doesn’t sound as happy, or as safe, as they should be. 

There will be a couple of years before Vesper learns to count to six. She will learn the intervals of seconds before that, after all, one of her favourite sounds is the constant clicking of the clocks she hears when she’s with her father in his workshop. As of this moment, Vesper doesn’t know that all it takes is eighteen seconds. 

She feels cold again, and the world moves faster than she can comprehend, but Vesper is safe and doesn’t cry. The voices continue to shout, and a notion creeps into her brain that she really doesn’t like that they sound so scared. She has never heard their voices being this loud. The grip being her head still hurts, and that doesn’t make sense because she’s still safe. For the moment there is nothing to be afraid of. 

In a swirl of colour a small hand that is familiar to her takes her away from the one keeping her safe. Being taken from that safety should upset her, but all she knows in the next moment is that it _hurts_. Sharp claws on the cold, cold hand that had held her brush against her when she's taken and that sensation breaks everything. The feeling that kept her secure before is gone, and she is finding no reason anymore not to cry. Mingling with her wail is a lullaby that the familiar one is singing. His words are quick, his voice shaking, but the pain subsides with the song as Vesper continues to cry. Vesper has no way of comprehending what is happening, she doesn't see the people fighting, doesn't understand the words shouted, the curses her father makes when his pistol misfires, doesn't know the battle raging around her and how close the cold hand with no calming pulse comes to take her back. Vesper only knows what she needs, and that is for everything to stop.

A light fills the space, and that is like the world takes a breath in the middle of screaming. Where the sharp difference of turning night into daytime should cause pain, the brightness is nothing but warmth and Vesper tries to reach out towards it's source that is much to far away. 

Her mother’s voice is loud again, but this time the feeling is different, this time it is strong and brave, still filled with rage but the fear that was within it has burned away with the light. The one who held her before is screaming, and then there is silence for but a moment before two more people are there, her most favourite people are there with her. 

“Vesper! Vesper! Oh darling, oh no, oh no my darling, is she safe, Scanlan is she---, Pike, please!” The voices of the two mix together again, as she is cradled in warm hands, tears dripping down onto her as her parents hold her close. To Vesper it all sounds the same as her parents words turns to gibberish, relief and worry turning their sentences into mush as they crowd around her. More familiar people and voices are coming and gathering around and while it is almost too much, she reaches out for the warmth and is instantly awarded with hands grabbing and holding hers, the sounds that makes up her name repeated over and over again in the voices that she loves. 

This incident is something that will be told to her, accidently the first time, and then more firmly, words chosen carefully as her family tells her about how she almost died on her parents second wedding. She will barely believe it then, because surely something like that should have left some marks, some scarring on her mind, but with her family around her she will think about how maybe it wasn't strange at all.

At the cliffside near Dalen's Closet, bathed in the light of the Dawnfather, Vesper Elaina de Rolo does not yet know her name.

Still, she knows that she is loved. She knows that she is safe. 

**Author's Note:**

> We were all thinking it, I just wanted to write it out. 
> 
> Fun fact, I actually rolled to see if lil' Vesper could make the saving throw against charm. Unfortunately, she rolled a four, it took five more rolls for her to get above 17 (she rolled a 19 at last!) For no reason at all, I do like the thought of Vesper's nickname being Whisper, because it sounds so close to Vesper and because of Vax. I didn't get to squeeze it in here, but I still wanted to mention it.


End file.
